Guardian Angel
by konarciq
Summary: He appeared out of nowhere - this incredibly tall man with the kindest eyes he had ever seen. He was dressed in beautiful white clothes and held out his arms to him. "He must be my guardian angel, coming to take me home," Felipe thought...
1. Chapter 1

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 **GUARDIAN ANGEL**

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"It's depressing, isn't it."

Young Diego de la Vega, his lips a thin line, merely nodded. His eyes continuously scanned the charred landscape. The sting of smoke and gunpowder still hung in the air. In the distance, they could still see plumes of smoke rising from the peasant villages. Most villages and houses they had passed today had been totally destroyed – either by fire, or by man. Or both.

And to accentuate the horror of destruction around them, dozens and dozens of bodies littered the landscape – maimed, burnt, or just simply dead. Soldiers and peasants alike, with crows and vultures feasting on them. It was like riding through a nightmare.

At first when they'd been forced to enter the scene of recent warfare because there seemed to be no way around it, Don Diego had been adamant to check if any of the people lying around were still alive and in need of help.

But after an entire morning with nothing but dead, stinking bodies, even he had practically given up the hope of finding survivors. The battle here had raged recently, yes, but too long ago for the wounded to survive and for the survivors to remain here. So now they just rode on, quickly, hoping to leave the horror scene behind them before nightfall at least.

But still, Diego kept scanning the fields around him. Just in case someone did...

Abruptly, he held in his horse. "I thought I saw something there," he said quietly.

"Where?"

"By the tree."

The young Don and his middle-aged servant peered intently at the lone tree in the middle of the field off to their right. Several dead bodies were scattered around, and the ominous calls of the birds of prey echoed in their ears.

"I don't see anything," Salvador the servant said softly.

Diego shook his head. "I saw something move there. I'm sure. Wait here," he said as he started to dismount.

"Don Diego, I don't think..." Salvador began.

But the young Don raised his hand. "Don't worry – I'll come right back."

Salvador sighed, and watched how his young master picked his way over the treacherous ground. He saw him kneel by each body he passed. But apparently, they were all dead. War was such a waste...

Meanwhile, Don Diego had gotten close enough to see that indeed there was a young peasant boy sitting with his back against the tree. He had his face hidden in his hands, and did not move at all. If it wasn't for the still fairly healthy colour of his visible skin, he could have been dead, too, as still as he sat there.

Carefully, he came closer. "Hello there," he said quietly, not wanting to startle the boy.

But the boy gave no reaction at all. Not until Diego stood right in front of him, looking down at him with compassion, did he wearily raise his head. His elfin face was pinched; his grief-stricken eyes too large for that little face.

For a moment, their eyes locked.

Then he held out his arms invitingly. "Come," he wanted to say. But the word got stuck in his throat at the sight of the boy's grief.

Tentatively, the boy reached out to him in return. And Diego bent down and lifted him in his arms. The boy immediately clung to him. What had he not been through these past days?

"You'll be okay," he murmured as he held him as tight as the boy held him. "You'll be fine. I promise."

Slowly, he began to seek his way back to Salvador and the horses, all the while talking soothingly to the child. He saw Salvador dismount, too, and hurry towards him.

"Is he hurt?" the servant asked with worry evident in his voice. He tried to take over Diego's load, but the boy tensed and clung even tighter to the young caballero.

"It's okay," Diego said quietly. "He barely weighs anything."

Silently, they made their way back to the horses. And that's where the trouble started. For when Diego tried to hand him to Salvador for a moment in order to have his hands free to mount Esperanza, the boy practically panicked. His face contorted, his mouth made talking movements (although oddly enough there wasn't even a trace of a sound) and he wrapped his arms and legs desperately around Diego's body.

"Come on," Diego said soothingly as he gently tried to pry the boy's hands loose from his jacket. "I'm not going to leave you here – I just need my hands free to get on my horse. But you can ride with me. Or... are you afraid of horses?"

There was absolutely no reaction, other than the continued panic attack.

"Maybe he is in shock," Salvador thought. He tried again to pry the boy's arms away from Diego's neck, but the only result was that the boy tightened his hold even further, almost strangling Diego.

"I've got a better idea," Diego brought out. Still clutching the boy to his chest, he took Esperanza by the halter and whispered to her. And gently urged her down. The horse quickly understood – Diego de la Vega was known to be a wonder with horses – and cautiously went down on one foreknee.

"Good girl." Diego patted her forehead. "Salvador?"

Salvador took the reins, and swiftly, Diego clambered up in the saddle with his load. A simple pat on the neck made Esperanza get back up, and Salvador handed him the reins. And nodded to the boy still wrapped around Diego. "Are you going to ride holding him like that?"

"We don't have much choice, do we?" Gently, Diego rubbed the boy's back. "Until he is willing to let go of me for a moment..."

Salvador nodded. "As long as you're alright riding like that?"

"I'll be fine," Diego assured him. And with one arm around the boy and holding the reins in the other, he nudged Esperanza into a gentle trot. "Let's get out of this war zone first."

Silently, they continued along the road north. Devastation and death remained their constant companions – it seemed as if the area had been totally deserted.

Diego looked down at the boy in his arms. Was he asleep? The way he still tightly clutched to him seemed to belie that, but the boy didn't react at all to Diego's soothing words of comfort.

"Don Diego," Salvador spoke at last. "We're going to have to find a place to stay the night. It's going to be dark soon. I'm not happy about camping out on a battlefield, but I'm afraid we have little choice. Going on in the dark would be foolishness."

Diego agreed. "And I think our young friend here might be hungry."

"And perhaps he can tell us where he's from before we're too far from his home," Salvador said.

"If he still has a home to return to," Diego murmured to himself. He looked down at the little face that was buried in the ruffles of his shirt. The poor boy still hadn't moved.

They found a decent spot to camp just when the sun was beginning to turn orange. It was a small sandy clearing by a little brook, backed by some – surprisingly not burnt – bushes.

Diego swung his leg over Esperanza's back and slid to the ground. The boy's grip on him immediately intensified, and Diego patted his back. "Don't worry. I'm here."

"Why don't you try and get some information from him," Salvador suggested. "I'll take care of the horses."

Diego nodded, and took his canteen from his saddlebag. "Are you thirsty?" he asked the boy in his arms.

No reaction.

Carefully, Diego nudged his arm a little with the canteen, and finally, the boy looked up: first at the canteen, and then at him – unsure, longing.

Diego nodded encouragingly, and held out the water canteen to him. "Go ahead. Drink."

The boy grabbed the canteen with one hand (the other still tightly held on to Diego's jacket) and gulped the water down.

"I'm sorry," Diego said, feeling more than a little guilty. "I should have thought of that. Are you hungry, too?"

No reaction – the boy was just too busy quenching his thirst. And when he finally drained the last drops, suddenly he was the one who looked a little guilty.

"It's okay," Diego told him. "We'll just fill it up in the stream." He took the canteen from the boy's hand and closed it. And put it away. "Are you hungry, too, perhaps?"

The boy was still looking at his face, but his look was one of panic and incomprehension. Perhaps he didn't speak Spanish? He didn't exactly look like an Indian boy, but... Better show him what he meant.

So he took out some bread wrapped in a cloth. He shook back the cloth and held it out to the boy. This time the boy spared but a glance at his benefactor before accepting the bread and tearing off a large bite.

And Diego smiled at him. "Good. Now let's get a little more comfortable." He chose a tree and carefully lowered himself to the ground with his load. The boy was still clinging to him, but now that he was eating, at least he seemed slightly more relaxed. Diego just kept his arms protectively around him and quietly talked to him – soothing words about being safe and not having to worry anymore. But the boy was too busy chewing to pay him much heed. And by the time Salvador was finished with the horses, the boy had eaten nearly the entire loaf of bread and began to sag against Diego's chest. Clearly, he was exhausted.

Salvador got out some food for them, too. The boy's eyes widened at the sight of the cold enchiladas, and Diego was quick to hand him his own. Just having had his fill with bread, the boy merely nibbled at it with a faint expression of contentment. And before he had eaten half of it, his eyes fluttered shut and he was asleep against Diego's chest.

Diego smiled down at him. "Poor kid." He took off his heavy cape and wrapped it around the boy as well as he could.

"Did you learn anything?" Salvador asked.

Diego shook his head. "Not really. Only that he doesn't seem to understand Spanish."

Salvador raised his eyebrows. "That seems unusual around here. I didn't think there were many settlers from outside the Spanish empire to live here."

"And he doesn't quite look like an Indian boy either." Diego sighed. "I suppose it will have to wait till tomorrow. Better let him sleep first."

The two men finished their cold supper in silence. Then Salvador spread out a blanket for each of them, with their horse saddle for a pillow. Diego carefully rolled onto his blanket, with the little boy still clinging to his chest. "Buenas noches, Salvador."

"Buenas noches, Don Diego."

* * *

But a very calm night it was not. Time and again, the boy was thrashing around wildly, his mouth wide open as if he were screaming – only there was no sound at all. It was almost eerie.

"Hey, wake up! Wake up, it's just a dream!" Diego shook him gently, then more firmly, until the boy opened his eyes. Even by the mere light of the half moon, there was no mistaking the terror in the boy's face as he seemed to be gasping for air.

"Ssh... it's okay. You're safe. I'm here."

The boy merely hid his face in Diego's shirt again and clung to him as his breathing and his heartbeat slowly calmed down again. And Diego kept talking to him in soothing sounds till they both dozed off again – until the next nightmare...

* * *

When the first rays of sunshine woke Diego up the next morning, he found his little protégé looking up at him, studying his face.

"Good morning," he said, giving the boy a reassuring smile.

The boy just looked at him.

"Do you understand what I say?"

A vague flash of incomprehension flitted across the boy's features, but he kept his eyes firmly on Diego's face.

Diego sighed. "You don't understand a word I say, do you." He sat up; the boy automatically came up with him as he was still holding on to Diego's jacket.

"My name." Diego pointed at himself. "Is Diego. Di-e-go. Can you say that? Di-e-go."

The boy seemed to understand and mouthed the sounds silently – or at least the vowels. But then his face lit up in recognition, and he seemed to exclaim, "Diego!" But still without the slightest sound.

"Yes." Diego smiled. "Diego. That is me. And what is your name?" He pointed at the boy for clarification, and again he seemed to understand. He pointed at himself and said something without a sound that Diego didn't get. The boy tried again, slower this time, and following his example, Diego tried to copy the movements of his mouth. "E-li-pe... Felipe?" That sounded Spanish enough.

The boy nodded, and said something again – entirely without sound. It was obvious that he was accustomed to being able to talk and being understood. Could it be that he'd screamed so badly in fear recently that he had lost his voice? But how come he didn't realize...?

Suddenly, the truth hit him. "Felipe," he said slowly, looking straight at the boy on his lap. "Are you deaf?"

That only got him another look of incomprehension.

"Deaf," he repeated. To illustrate what he was saying, he tightly covered his own ears and then pointed at Felipe.

The look of incomprehension turned into one of apprehension. The boy started to tell him something, but soon, Diego held up his hands.

"I don't understand," he said slowly.

Felipe tried again – but suddenly his eyes widened. He covered his ears and pointed at Diego, his eyes projecting a big question mark.

"Am _I_ deaf?" Diego automatically translated. "No, I..." He hesitated. "Not really. I just have trouble understanding _you_."

Felipe stared at him – Diego wasn't sure if he had understood.

"Maybe," he continued slowly, "We can talk with our hands." He pointed at his mouth, mimed talking and then waved his hands about.

Felipe nodded.

"So you can't hear?" Diego asked, using both speech and gestures. "Why?" An insensitive question perhaps, but the boy already seemed to be explaining it before. And 'why' was simpler in gestures than 'what happened'.

Meanwhile, Felipe mimed a big explosion. Then he covered his ears and shook his head.

"There was an explosion," Diego translated for himself. "And then you couldn't hear anymore."

The boy just looked at him.

"Felipe." Diego pointed at his lips. "Mamà," he said slowly and clearly. Then he pointed at Felipe, and made a questioning gesture.

The boy bit his lip. He seemed to think how to convey this – then he slowly formed a standing cross with his fingers.

"Mamà is dead," Diego translated, and Felipe nodded dejectedly – he seemed to have understood those words. Once again he mimed the explosion – then the cross, then pointing at his own ears.

"And papà?"

Again, Felipe made the explosion and then the cross. And then he flung himself against Diego's chest, with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh boy," Diego sighed gently. "That's an awful lot to take in at once." He held the boy tight, and softly rubbed his back. At least he knew now that any comfort needed to be physical – it was obvious that the explosion had left the boy stonedeaf. He was lucky to have escaped with his life at all. With a lot of luck, the deafness might turn out to be temporary, but for now it was Felipe's reality. And then his voice, too...

Across from him, Salvador stirred and then sat up. "Buenos dias, Don Diego. And how is our little friend?"

"Better, I think. He had a lot of nightmares though."

"Yes, I noticed," Salvador nodded. "You handled him well. I just hope you're not too tired yourself now?"

"I'm fine," Diego dismissed his worries. "I've also found out that he's in all likelihood a refugee from the war."

"I'm not surprised," Salvador interjected, and Diego nodded.

"His name is Felipe, and I discovered he's stonedeaf as the result of an explosion that also killed both his parents. He seems to have lost his voice as well, but hopefully that's only temporary."

"Madre de Dios..." Salvador crossed himself. "The poor kid..." He frowned. "But how did he tell you that if...?"

"Once I realized he was deaf, we tried to communicate with gestures. It went quite well actually." He sighed. "The odd thing is that because he can't hear, he doesn't realize that he's lost his voice. He seems to think I'm deaf, too."

"Poor kid," Salvador muttered again. He looked up. "So what are you planning to do? If his parents are dead..."

"I hope he'll be able to tell us where he's from – I hadn't gotten that far yet. And then take him there and see if we can find any relatives."

Salvador nodded. "Could be tricky though," he pointed out. "From what we've seen, his entire pueblo might have been wiped out."

Diego merely sighed, and stroked Felipe's soft hair.

Salvador got up, shook out and rolled up his blanket, and went to get them all some breakfast. The smell of cold tamales even caught little Felipe's attention, and they ate in threefold silence. Felipe kept casting wary glances in Salvador's direction, and once he had finished his breakfast and had one hand free again, he pointed to the older man and mouthed, "Papà?" to Diego.

Diego shook his head. "No. He works for my father." He tried to come up with a gesture for 'work', and after a few tries, and then taking a few coins from his pocket and pretending to pay Salvador, apparently the boy understood.

He made a few more signs.

"Where is my papà?" Diego found he automatically tried to translate Felipe's gestures into words. "My father... my papà is in Los Angeles, in California." That clearly meant nothing to the boy, so he motioned it was far, far away.

Felipe nodded. "Mamà?" he mouthed next.

Solemnly, Diego made the same cross with his fingers as Felipe had done before. "My mamà is dead."

Another nod.

"Felipe." Diego took him gently by the shoulders. "We would like to take you home. Do you know where you are from? The name of your pueblo?" He had no idea how to translate that to signs, but Felipe just stared at him with incomprehension written all over his face.

"Your pueblo. Your home," Diego tried again.

"Try drawing it in the sand," Salvador suggested as he started packing up their stuff.

That was an idea. So Diego first drew one house, and pointed from the house to Felipe. Then he drew more houses around it, pointed to himself, saying, "Diego," pointing to Felipe and saying his name, and then back to the houses in the sand. "Diego. Felipe." And then he pointed from the houses to Felipe with an inquiring gesture.

Felipe nodded his understanding. "San Carlos," he mouthed, and when Diego didn't quite get it, he said it again, slower.

"San Carlos," Diego repeated. "Is San Carlos a big pueblo? Or a small pueblo?" He illustrated his question with gestures, and after a moment of deliberation, Felipe showed him that it was somewhere in the middle.

"Okay," Diego told him. "We'll see if we can find San Carlos. Surely there must be someone in your hometown who can take you in."


	2. Chapter 2

For days, they crisscrossed the ghostly countryside that was left after the recent battles. Smoking ruins, craters, countless corpses, blackened fields and hardly any living people was what they encountered.

"San Carlos," Salvador had muttered. "It could be anywhere within a twenty mile radius or more."

"That's why we need to keep a close eye on Felipe," Diego said. "He's bound to react if he recognizes something."

"If he recognizes anything at all," was Salvador's opinion. "How can you expect a little boy like that to recognize his home in these spooky ruins?"

But on and on they went, from one near ghosttown to another. Anyone they met got the question if they recognized the boy Felipe. Nobody did, and the subsequent directions to San Carlos tended to be confusing and highly contradictory. It didn't seem to be a well-known pueblo.

Felipe himself seemed to have regained some of his equilibrium. He now rode with Diego facing front, and he had mostly stopped literally clinging to the young caballero. Still, he wouldn't let him out of his sight, and whenever they dismounted, he was anxious to either have Diego carry him, or at the very least hold his hand like grim death. However, whether they slept in the open air or under an occasional steady roof, his nightmares continued to plague him, and no one but Diego was able to calm him down.

"The way you saved him from amidst a field full of dead bodies, he probably sees you as his guardian angel," Salvador teased.

Diego's answer was a sad smile. "I just want to make sure he'll be alright. If his handicaps turn out to be permanent, plus having no parents, plus those horrid memories... His life sure won't be easy. I just want to make sure it won't be any more difficult than strictly necessary."

Salvador nodded. "Don't worry. I understand, Don Diego. He's a sweet kid, and one who's had more than his share of misery already. And I think you're doing a fine job in comforting him. And then the way you two communicate...!"

His communication with Felipe was something that – if he was really honest with himself – actually fascinated Diego. At a certain point the boy had given up trying to make himself understood by talking, and now, whenever there was a moment's opportunity, the two of them were trying to communicate through a steadily growing repertoire of signs and gestures. Ostensibly, he took the trouble in order to give Felipe a means of communication with whomever he was going to end up living. But a definite secondary motive was his own curiosity as to how far he could go in expanding Felipe's sign vocabulary. Because for every word that had an obvious gesture, there were a handful that were too complex or too abstract for a logical and easily comprehensible sign.

But despite his peasant background, Felipe obviously was an intelligent kid, and by frequently communicating with Diego, his sign vocabulary expanded by leaps and bounds every day.

* * *

It was about a week after they started their quest for San Carlos that one night when they had finished their supper of cold enchiladas, Felipe crawled onto Diego's lap. Diego smiled at him, but the boy kept looking at him with a rather miserable expression on his face.

"What is wrong, Felipe?"

Felipe signed something, and Diego's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "When are we going to _my_ home? To Los Angeles, you mean?" He even forgot to accompany his words with signs, but Felipe seemed to understand anyway, for he nodded miserably.

Diego stared at him for a moment before venturing to explain in words and gestures. "Felipe, your home is here. Even if mamà and papà are dead, there must be someone who is looking for you. Someone who loves you. And we are trying to find him."

Felipe brushed at his eyes before making a reply.

"You want to go to..." Diego had to puzzle a moment to interpret the gesture the boy was making. "You want to go to Los Angeles?"

Felipe nodded, and signed some more.

"You want to go to mamà and papà. In Los Angeles?! Felipe..." Diego rubbed his arm a bit in comfort. "Your mamà and papà are dead. And when you are dead, you go up to heaven."

Felipe nodded with obvious emphasis, and once more he drew a circle around the top of his head and mimed having large wings.

"I think he's talking about angels – not the pueblo de Los Angeles," Salvador quietly intervened.

"You mean..." Diego tried to go back over their conversation, but Felipe required his attention with more signing. "You want to come with me to my home... in heaven with the angels... so you can be with papà and mamà..."

There wasn't much that could render the more than eloquent Diego de la Vega speechless.

But this definitely did.

And when he finally let go of his breath and became aware of the misery and the expectation in Felipe's eyes, he did the only thing he could think of: he pulled the boy against his chest and hugged him tight.

Madre de Dios, the boy thought he was an actual _angel_?! How was he going to talk himself out of _this_ with nothing but a few gestures?

But he had to try... So he let go of Felipe, took a deep breath and began, "Felipe, I am just like you, and just like señor Salvador. And just like your mamà and papà. I am _not_ an angel."

Felipe's expression turned stubborn and he signed something back.

"But I said my home is with the angels in heaven?" Diego translated. He shook his head. "No, the _name_ of my home is Los Angeles. Diego. Felipe. Salvador." He went through the same routine as when he had tried to find out the name of Felipe's hometown, and quickly sketched a few houses in the sand. "San Carlos." And another few houses some distance away. "Los Angeles. Los Angeles is a _pueblo_."

Felipe nodded, and pointed to the sky again.

"No, it's _not_ in heaven." Diego rubbed his face in frustration. "How am I going to explain this?"

"Just try again," Salvador suggested.

Alright then. "Felipe, I am _not_ an angel. And señor Salvador is no angel either. We are just like you." How on earth could you convey the word 'human' in signs? Especially when your discussion partner was already convinced you were way beyond human?

And indeed. " _But your home is with the angels_ ," Felipe insisted.

"No, it's _not_." Diego heaved a sigh. "I believe it's the prepositions that are causing the problem," he said in an aside to Salvador. "We'll have to develop some signs for those, too." And to Felipe, "Your _name_ " – suddenly he found a sign for 'name', and Felipe seemed to understand – "is Felipe. The name of your pueblo," he pointed to the houses in the sand, "is San Carlos. _Your_ name is not San Carlos. Right?"

Felipe nodded, and pointed at himself. " _Felipe_ ," he mouthed, using the sign for 'name' that Diego had just invented.

"Yes. Your name is Felipe. You are not San Carlos."

Felipe agreed.

"My name is Diego. His name is Salvador. The name of our pueblo is Los Angeles. Los Angeles is the _name_ of our pueblo. But I am not an angel. And señor Salvador is no angel either."

He seemed to have gotten through to Felipe at last – the boy glanced uncertainly back and forth between him and Salvador. Hesitantly, he started to sign a question, halted, and then signed it anyway, finishing with a pat on the ground.

"Yes, Los Angeles is the name of a pueblo here on earth. And there are no angels living there," Diego replied.

Another question.

"Then why did we come looking for you? We didn't. We just found you. We just saw you sitting there under that tree, all alone, with lots of dead soldiers around you. You looked so sad, and so lost. We just wanted to help you. To take you home to your family."

" _But mamà and papà are in heaven!_ " Felipe signed bewildered.

"Yes." Diego sighed. "And unfortunately, that is the one place I _can't_ take you." Sadly, he rubbed the boy's leg. "I'm sorry, Felipe."

The look the boy gave him cut deep. On the brink of tears, those dark eyes were pools of betrayal, reproach and grief. And without another word or gesture, little Felipe crawled a few meters away to sit by himself, his arms around his knees, but making sure not to leave his companions out of sight.

Diego bit his lip and glanced at Salvador with an unspoken question in his eyes.

"Just let him be," the older man quietly advised. "Keep an eye on him, but let him be for now."

"But... I feel so _guilty_ ," Diego choked out. "To think he only came with us because he thought we were _angels_...!"

Salvador let out a sigh. "I know I've been joking about him seeing you as his guardian angel, but... Don Diego, in the circumstances we found him, the boy would have gone with _anyone_ who offered him the mere semblance of a refuge. He could have done a lot worse in that matter. And if you hadn't found him, or if you had left him there, chances are considerable that he would have been dead by now."

"Obviously, that is just what he wants," Diego muttered.

Salvador smiled a little. "As did you when your mother had just died. Remember?"

Diego made no reply, but he knew it was true.

"The boy is grieving, Don Diego. We'll probably never know what made him think we were angels, but I doubt that his trust in you is so shaken that he'd prefer to face the hell around him alone. Without your comforting presence at his side."

Nothing more was said on the subject, and to Diego's utter relief, when they started to get ready for the night, Felipe came back to him to curl up against his chest as usual. Diego carefully wrapped him in his warm cape, and held him tight without a word.

It was the first night that Felipe literally cried himself to sleep.

And the first night that Diego felt utterly helpless trying to comfort him.

* * *

It was the ninth day of their quest for the pueblo of San Carlos that Diego and Salvador upon entering the next semi ghosttown suddenly held in their horses and glanced at each other. The sudden change caused Felipe, too, to look up at Diego with an inquiring gesture.

"Children," Diego replied using the appropriate sign. "I hear children. Lots of children."

Felipe looked about, and as the two horses slowly went into motion again, all three of them scanned the nearly destroyed pueblo for the source of the sound.

It turned out to be coming from the half burnt down mission and its devastated surrounding garden. The young caballero and his servant brought their horses to a halt in front of it, and tethered them to a low hanging branch. A whole group of children immediately surrounded them, and two or three ran off inside, calling, "Padre Juan, there is a new boy!"

Felipe looked rather panicky around, holding on to Diego's jacket for dear life, and as soon as Esperanza was tied, he stretched out his arms in request to be lifted up in his arms.

Diego complied without comment, and felt Felipe burying his face in his neck. Then, with the children crowding around them, he and Salvador made their way over to the door, where a harried looking padre just appeared.

"Yes, my son? How can I help you?"

Diego caught his compassionate, yet resigned glance as he looked at Felipe, and he cleared his throat. "Buenos dias, padre. We um... we heard all those children's voices, and we wondered if perhaps you have an orphanage here?"

The padre sighed. "More or less, yes. The recent battles have left so many orphans – how could I turn them away? But they're sleeping on the pews, and even in between them, and food is scarce. I'm doing the best I can, but..." A sigh. "I can only pray that the good Lord will have mercy on these poor children, and send us some food soon."

Diego swallowed with difficulty, and glanced at Salvador. "We found this boy all alone on a battlefield. His name is Felipe and he is from a pueblo called San Carlos. His parents are dead, but we're looking for relatives. Do you recognize him perhaps?"

The padre tried to get a look at Felipe's face, but the boy desperately clung to Diego, hiding his face in his neck.

"Felipe." Diego rubbed his back to reassure him. "Look at the padre, please."

It took some doing, but in the end, the padre caught a glimpse of Felipe's face. And shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, I don't recall ever having seen the boy." He sighed. "You are welcome to leave him here though. We're badly overcrowded as it is, but I will take care of him."

But Diego shook his head. "No, thank you, padre." There was no way he could leave his little Felipe in such miserable conditions. No doubt the good padre was doing the best he could, but Felipe needed – nay, _deserved_ – more than just a roof over his head. And as long as there was a chance of finding the boy's relatives... And if they were to find that relative, they needed Felipe to identify them. Better go on therefore. "At least not yet. We're still looking for the boy's relatives. Could you perhaps tell us where to find the pueblo of San Carlos?"

The padre nodded, seemingly relieved that the visitors did not intend to leave the boy in his care. "San Carlos is a small pueblo, about four miles southwest of here. I haven't been there since the fighting started though – it might well be..." He hesitated with a glance at Felipe, and made a gesture as if to say 'eradicated'.

Diego nodded. "Thank you. And God bless you and your work, padre." He took out his purse and gave him a generous donation to help him keep up the good work.

For a moment, the padre was totally at a loss for words, but then he stuttered, "Señor, may your kindness and generosity be rewarded tenfold! And..." He made the sign of the cross on his and Felipe's forehead, and blessed them both. "I pray that you will find the boy a good home, señor. God bless you."

Diego and Salvador lowered their head in thanks, and took their leave from the padre to travel on in a southwestern direction, hoping at least that the padre was right about the location of San Carlos.

Clearly, he was. Already when they were approaching the nearly burnt down pueblo, Felipe became so distressed that he wanted to take refuge against Diego's chest again. Diego stopped Esperanza for a moment to turn him around in the saddle, and Felipe promptly clung to him again as he had on that first day when they had just found him.

Slowly, they rode into town. There were but a handful of people about – they all looked worn-out and desolate.

Diego rode up to an elderly man. "Buenos dias, señor," he greeted, and slid out of the saddle with Felipe in his arms. "Is this San Carlos?"

The man grunted what seemed to be a positive reply.

"We found this boy all alone on a battlefield," Diego continued. "His name is Felipe, his parents have been killed, and he is from this pueblo, San Carlos. Do you happen to know if there are any relatives or friends of the family still around here?"

The man barely glanced at Felipe. "I got my own problems. Sorry." And with that, he walked off.

It was the type of reaction they'd often gotten these past days. People were simply too engrossed in their own misery to be able to take an interest in someone else's troubles. And really, who could blame them?

But now that they'd finally found Felipe's hometown, Diego was determined to speak with every living soul left in the pueblo. "Excuse me, do you happen to know this boy, Felipe? He used to live here."

"Excuse me, do you happen to know this boy? His name is Felipe, and he used to live here."

"Excuse me..."

And at last he found a woman who frowned, looked again at Felipe's pinched face, and nodded. "Yes, I remember him."

"You do?" Diego's face lit up. "Do you perhaps know if there are any relatives of his around here? Or friends of the family?" He sobered. "His parents got killed. Caught in a battle. And Felipe himself has lost his speech and his hearing. So we're looking for someone to take him in."

But the woman shook her head dismissively. "I remember them, yes, but I didn't really know the family."

"Then do you know perhaps of anyone around here who _does_ know them?"

The woman glanced up at him. "Señor, when the fighting reached our pueblo, the people have fled in all directions. Most people you see here are refugees from elsewhere themselves. And other than my own children, I have no idea where _anyone_ is. I don't even know where my own husband, my own parents are."

"I'm sorry," Diego said quietly. "Of course you have your own share of misery to deal with. I was just hoping... since you at least _know_ Felipe here, that perhaps you could take him in and care for him? If there are no relatives to be found, then at least he could stay in his hometown. I'd be more than happy to pay for his keep."

A decisive shake of the head. "Sorry, señor. I've got problems enough of my own without adding a deaf and dumb kid to the pile. You had better put him in an orphanage – that's where he belongs."

Diego nodded stiffly. "Gracias, señora."

His mouth was a thin line when in the end he returned to Salvador who had stayed with the horses.

He raised his eyebrows; Diego just shook his head.

"So what now?" Salvador asked.

Diego nodded to the horses. "Let's get out of here first. It's obviously very distressing for Felipe."

They mounted their horses – Diego with Felipe still clinging to him – and slowly rode out of the pueblo. They stopped by a small creek – sunset would be upon them soon, and fresh water was always good to have at a campsite.

Diego slid off Esperanza with Felipe in his arms. They were practically back at square one: the boy was clinging to him, hiding his face in the ruffles of his shirt.

Once again, Salvador looked after the horses and got them something to eat. "We'll soon be running out of food," he said quietly as he sat down with Diego and Felipe. "We'll need to find a place where we can stock up a bit."

Diego nodded silently, and kept stroking Felipe's back.

"So what are we going to do with him now?" Salvador inquired after a lengthy pause.

"I don't know." Diego looked down at the boy in his arms and heaved a sigh. "It seemed so simple – just take him back to his hometown and all would be well. But maybe we've been going about this the wrong way – returning him to his past life when he seems desperate to forget what happened. Maybe..." He hesitated. "Maybe we should just take him back to Los Angeles with us. Since we can't seem to find any friends or relatives..." His voice trailed off, uncertain as he felt in making such a far-reaching decision about the boy's life.

Salvador nodded. "I think that would be a fine idea, Don Diego. And more so since it would give the boy the chance to keep in touch with you. With the way he has almost imprinted himself upon you, it'd be cruel to really separate him from you again."

Diego had a sad smile. "You're right – as always. But maybe we should ask Felipe himself what he wants. It's his life after all."

Salvador nodded. "But ask him tomorrow then. Right now he's just upset."

That seemed like sound advice, so it was after another harrowing night with multiple nightmares of Felipe's that Diego made him face him and tentatively began, "Felipe, there is something very important we need to ask you."

Felipe nodded – he looked pale and drawn, and seemed wary of what was to come.

And Diego made sure his signs and gestures were clear. "You saw that we didn't find any of your family in San Carlos yesterday. Maybe you still have family here – we just don't know where, because everyone has been running away for the fighting."

Felipe nodded mutely, and chewed on his lip.

"The question is, do you want to keep looking for your family? Or would you rather come back with me and señor Salvador, to my hometown?"

Felipe's eyes widened. " _Stay with you?_ "

"Well, in my hometown," Diego clarified. "I think you would live at the orphanage with padre Berardo. He's a very nice man – I've known him all my life. And there are only twelve or fifteen children in the Los Angeles orphanage – not like the orphanage we saw yesterday. So padre Berardo would really have time for you. And of course I'd come and visit you every day."

Felipe nodded, and pointed at him.

"You want to come with me? To the pueblo de Los Angeles? It's very far away though," he warned. "If any family of yours is still looking for you, they will never find you there."

But Felipe pointed at himself, and then at Diego with exaggerated emphasis.

"You're sure you want to come to the pueblo de Los Angeles with me?"

Felipe nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Diego's face.

"Okay." Diego smiled. "Then to Los Angeles we go!"


	3. Chapter 3

Before they set off for Los Angeles though, Diego took out his ever present sketchbook and a piece of charcoal and sat Felipe down in front of him.

"I will make a portrait of you," he told the boy. "Then we can give that to the padre at the orphanage we saw yesterday."

Startled, and half panicked, Felipe shook his head and signed something urgent.

"No, I'm not going to leave _you_ at the orphanage. You are coming back with us to my pueblo," Diego reassured him. "But if someone is still looking for you, we wouldn't want them to think you are dead. And the first place they will look for you is an orphanage. So we will leave a portrait of you with the padre, with your name, and where they can find you."

Felipe seemed satisfied with his explanation, and patiently posed for him. For a few minutes, that is, for then his curiosity took over and he crawled closer to see what Diego was doing.

His eyes widened at the sight of the half finished sketch. " _It's me!_ " he motioned excitedly, eliciting a chuckle from Diego.

"Yes, it's you. Now sit down there again, will you? So I can finish the portrait and we can finally go home!"

* * *

Felipe's portrait with the contact details of the De la Vegas was left with padre Juan at the orphanage, who promised to show it to anyone who came to inquire about a Felipe, and then the trio finally resumed their northbound heading. And now that they didn't have to stop to ask around all the time, they could travel much faster.

Felipe, too, had gotten more confident riding on a horse. He now rode proudly facing front, as an illustration of his looking forward to his new life in Los Angeles. Enveloped in Diego's arms, he seemed the happiest when Diego let him hold the reins, even if of course the young caballero was still the one who was really in charge of Esperanza.

All in all, it took them a mere two days to leave the warzone behind them, and two more days to reach the border with California. And that night, for the first time in two weeks, they slept in a real bed again at the local inn.

Or... again? Felipe had never slept on a mattress, let alone in a bed before. Once they had brought their belongings up to their room, it was near impossible to get him to come down for a hearty (and warm!) supper – the boy would much rather have gone straight to bed!

Diego smiled indulgently at his enthusiasm, and promised to come straight to bed with him as soon as they had finished their supper. Unfortunately, the soft mattress did nothing to help keep Felipe's continuing nightmares at bay. Still, the realization that he was lying on a mattress, in a real bed, in a real inn certainly did help in calming him down again afterwards.

They decided to stay over a day in San Diego. And while Salvador went out to replenish their practically depleted food supply, Diego sat down at a table in the tavern to write a long letter to his father, explaining why the return journey from Guadalajara was taking them so long, and telling him all about little Felipe. With a bit of luck, the letter would reach Don Alejandro before they got back to Los Angeles themselves.

Felipe sat at his elbow, silently observing the progress of the letter, until at last he touched Diego's arm.

"What is it, Felipe?"

Felipe made a general gesture of inquiry.

"What am I doing?" He looked back at what he had written. "I'm telling my father why we are so late. We should have been home days ago, so I'm sure he is worried."

Felipe made no reply, so he finished his letter in mutual silence. But once he signed his name and put down his quill, Felipe asked his attention again.

"Is my father alone at home? Yes, he is. Well, sort of. There are still servants in the house."

" _Does he miss your mamà?_ "

Diego had a sad smile. "Yes, I'm sure he still misses my mother. I miss her, too."

Felipe signed something.

"Did she die in the war?" Diego shook his head. "No. She got very sick. So sick that she died from it."

Felipe regarded him gravely for a moment, almost as if he tried to read his thoughts. And then he asked, " _How old were you when she died?_ "

"How old I was? I was twelve when she died." He heaved a sigh as memories came rushing back to him. "She had been sick for a long time. And I knew she had been getting worse and that she might even die – my father had told me that. But somehow I didn't believe she could die. She was my mother – she couldn't just die. But one day when I came home for dinner after playing with my friends the whole afternoon, my father came staggering towards me and told me that she had died."

Felipe nodded his understanding. " _Were you sad?_ " he asked.

"Yes, of course I was sad. And I felt guilty, too – that I had been having such fun with my friends while my mother had died." Another sigh. "But you know what? In the beginning it's terrible. You can hardly think of anything else. But after some time, you get used to the new situation. Lots of new things happen, and suddenly you realize one evening that you haven't really thought about your mother all day." He put his arm around Felipe's shoulders and pulled him close. "You will always miss your mamà and papà, Felipe. And that's good, because they are a part of you. But I can promise you from experience that things will get better. You will be happy again; you won't be sad forever. And I don't think your mamà and papà would want you to be sad for the rest of your life either."

Felipe nodded, and signed something complicated that made Diego frown.

"Try again, please. I don't understand."

So Felipe went through the signs again, slower this time, to give Diego a chance to translate his question in bits and pieces.

"Do I think my mother... and your mamà and papà... are sitting together now... in heaven... watching over us as we talk here?" He smiled, and ruffled the boy's hair. "I sure hope so, Felipe."

* * *

Later that day, Diego also got Felipe a new set of clothes, as well as new sandals. The boy was in seventh heaven with his new outfit, even though it took the combined persuasion of Don Diego and Salvador to convince him that it was really for him, and for keeps.

"You ought to look your best when you arrive in your new hometown," Salvador teased him.

Although practically all communication went through Diego, Felipe had become more at ease with Salvador as well now. But it was only Diego he still didn't trust out of his sight. Diego found it a bit stifling on one hand, but on the other hand, Felipe's blind reliance on him made him feel really grown up. Almost as if he were the boy's father, he thought. That is of course, if the age difference had been a little bigger. Felipe was probably more like a baby-brother – the baby-brother he had always wished for and often even had asked for before his mother got sick.

Yes. It felt incredibly good to be a big brother at last.

* * *

They took their time in riding from San Diego to Los Angeles, and so it was halfway the afternoon of the third day that they finally approached the De la Vega hacienda – although Felipe didn't seem to realize it was their destination until the horses halted in front of the gate and Diego slid out of the saddle with Felipe in his arms.

The boy turned back to him as soon as he stood on his own feet and made an inquiring gesture.

"This is my home," Diego said and signed.

Felipe's jaw dropped, and he turned around for a better look. " _All of it?_ " he signed incredulously.

"Yes. All of it."

" _You must be a king!_ " Felipe signed in awe.

"No." Diego chuckled. "I'm not a king. Just the son of a wealthy caballero."

And there was the wealthy caballero himself. "Diego!"

"Father!" He ran forward to hug his father, before stepping back and giving him a critical once-over. "You look a lot better than when I left. I'm so glad to see you up and about again!"

"No more glad than I am, I'm sure. And you look good, too. I believe you've grown even taller, son. Where is this going to stop?"

It was an old joke between father and son ever since Diego had surpassed his father in height, so he just smiled, and shrugged good-naturedly.

Don Alejandro slapped his son on the back, and turned to the others. "Salvador," he greeted the trusted servant. "It's good to see you again. I hope Diego didn't give you too much trouble?"

Salvador smiled. "Nothing I couldn't handle, señor."

"Good. Good." And then he turned his attention to the little boy hanging back by the horses. "And you must be Felipe," he said slowly, enunciating each word. "Diego has written me all about you."

Intimidated, Felipe took a step back.

Diego saw it. "Come," he gestured to the boy. "It's okay."

But Felipe stayed where he was, so Diego walked over to him and squatted down. "Felipe, this man is my father. My papà. I told you about him, remember?"

Felipe cast an uncertain glance in the direction of the elder caballero, and then thrust his arms around Diego's neck.

And Diego sighed in a smile. "It's okay. I'm here. Come on, let's get inside." He lifted the boy up in his arms and followed his father into the hacienda, while Salvador went to the stables with the two horses.

"Ah, it's good to be home," Diego sighed as he entered the sala.

"It's good to _have_ you home," his father emphasized. "But first tell me." A cloud came over his face. "How are things in Guadalajara?"

"As well as can be expected when we left." Diego lowered himself onto one of the chairs in the library, and gratefully accepted the cool glass of lemonade that Maria offered him. The lemonade even got Felipe to lift his head from Diego's shoulder long enough to empty his glass, but all in all he seemed rather overwhelmed by the home he had just been brought into.

Diego let him be. He just kept his arms protectively around the boy, and occasionally rubbed his back in reassurance.

"And what about little Felipe?" his father asked once the topic of his brother's death and its aftermath had been dealt with. "From what I gathered from your letter, you did the right thing in taking him under your wings, Diego. But was it really a good idea to bring him here? If any of his relatives are still looking for him, they'll never find him now."

Diego sighed. "I know. And I realized that, father. But you haven't seen the... the devastation of the country there. Most pueblos have been totally destroyed, the people have fled..." He closed his eyes at the memory. "We've asked around for days if anyone knew Felipe. But even in his hometown – his pretty much eradicated hometown – there was only one lady who remembered him. But she was no relative or friend, and flatly refused to take him in, even when I offered to pay for his keep. And under the circumstances they were living there, I cannot possibly blame her. But since nobody seemed to know anything about relatives, and the one orphanage we came across was more than overcrowded..."

"So you took him home with you," Don Alejandro concluded.

"Yes, although we did leave a message at the orphanage. But actually we let Felipe choose himself. If he had wanted to keep looking for relatives, we would have done so. But it seemed all he wanted was to get away and forget about the horrors he'd seen. He knows his parents are dead, and to be honest, it's never become clear to me whether he even _has_ other relatives."

His father nodded.

"And, well, to be honest..." Diego had a bashful little grin. "I confess I've grown rather fond of him myself."

His father chuckled. "Yes, I can see that, son. And apparently, the feeling is mutual." He slapped his thighs and got up. "Well, as an orphan with no known relatives, the boy will be a ward of the Church in any case. But we can go and see the padre about that tomorrow – for tonight, your little protégé will be our guest."

* * *

Once Felipe had realized that Diego's father had left the room, he lifted his head off Diego's shoulder and looked at him inquiringly.

"What now?" Diego translated.

Felipe nodded.

"Well, tonight we are going to stay here, at my father's house," he explained with gestures. "For this is my home. I have lived in this house all my life."

" _The house is big_ ," Felipe interjected.

"Yes, it is big. So we will eat here, and sleep here tonight. And tomorrow, we will take you to the padre in the pueblo. He is a very nice man, and he will be happy to take care of you in the orphanage with the other children."

Felipe asked something.

"Is it far to the pueblo? No," Diego assured him. "It's very close. I'll come and visit you every day – I promise."

Still, Felipe looked a bit dejected, and his next question made Diego chuckle. "If I can come and live at the orphanage, too? I'm afraid I'm a bit too old for that, my boy!" He pulled him tight against his chest, and Felipe wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in Diego's neck in an attempt to hide his sudden tears.

"Yes, my friend," Diego whispered. "I'm going to miss you, too."

* * *

The afternoon passed with exploring the hacienda together, a visit to the stables, and Felipe taking a bath in a real bath tub.

Don Alejandro watched his son and his little protégé with interest. He was proud of his son, the way he took care of the poor orphan boy. No doubt he would make a great father one day!

And on top of that, he was more than a little amazed to see how easily the two communicated when no one else (himself included) seemed to be able to make much sense of the boy's gestures. The kid sure wasn't going to have it easy without Diego by his side...

"Father," Diego said as he entered the sala again hand in hand with a squeaky clean Felipe. "I hope you don't mind, but I think Felipe would be far more at ease if he could eat in the kitchen tonight. He does seem a bit overwhelmed by our... 'grandeur'." He chuckled. "And of course I'd rather not leave him by himself in these strange surroundings – if he would even let me. So would you mind very much...?"

His father smiled. "To dine alone one more time? No, son. It's alright. You stay with him."

Back when he was a child, Diego had often got to eat in the kitchen whenever his parents were away. His father had felt it would help him to see the family's servants as people instead of inferiors, and he had made friends with the hacienda's personnel as easily as he had with anyone he met. It would be nice to revisit that childhood memory with Felipe at his side.

Maria the cook was already bustling about when Diego and Felipe entered the large kitchen. "Ah! Don Diego! Just in time. Can you please finish setting the table for me?"

Diego grinned. Yep. It was just like old times.

He guided Felipe to the large kitchen table, where all the plates and glasses and cutlery had just been dumped in a pile. "Come," he told Felipe. "We can set the table together to help Maria. I'll show you."

In this, too, Felipe turned out to be a quick and eager learner, and Maria gave him a friendly pat on the head in thanks.

Soon, the other servants began to trickle in, and once they had said grace together, Maria served them all a generous portion.

Diego didn't mind that their talk and table manners were somewhat less refined than his own, and in return, the servants totally accepted him in their midst. In contrast, on the bench between Diego and Salvador, Felipe looked as if he very much felt the outsider. When they were camping out these past weeks, and even at the inn in San Diego, it had been totally normal to eat with his fingers as he always had. But at this table, literally everyone was using a knife and a fork to eat. Maybe he should try that, too...

Shyly, he picked up his own knife and fork. Immediately, he felt Diego smiling at him, and he glanced up.

"Good!" the young Don seemed to say. Unobtrusively, he showed the boy how to hold and use the utensils. Felipe did his best to copy him. The result was quite a bit messier than that on Diego's plate, but both Diego and Maria made sure to compliment him.

"With some more practice, you'll soon have impeccable table manners!" Maria predicted, and Diego translated her words as best he could.

But as the meal (and Felipe's battle with fork and knife) progressed, Felipe seemed to withdraw more and more into himself. Diego saw it with growing concern, and he patted Felipe's shoulder to get his attention. "What is wrong?" he asked with gestures when those dark eyes looked up at him.

Felipe gulped visibly. " _What are they saying?_ "

Diego glanced at the others, and back at Felipe. "They are talking about the horses," he told the boy.

Felipe lowered his eyes to his plate, and slowly took another bite.

And Diego understood. While they had been underway, there had been only the three of them. And even if Felipe didn't understand everything, he had been very much a part of their social interaction. But in a larger group like this, everything just gulfed around him, denying him any opportunity for interaction.

He bit his lip. Would it really be such a good idea to leave the boy at the orphanage? Constantly surrounded by some fifteen other children, would he not feel equally left out as he did here?

But if not the orphanage, what other option was there?


	4. Chapter 4

After dinner, Diego took Felipe back to the library with him. Don Alejandro was already there, reading a book, and he raised his eyebrows at the sight of their dejected expressions.

Diego fell down on the settee, and immediately, Felipe curled up beside him.

"What's wrong, son?"

Diego sighed. "Felipe felt rather left out, because he was unable to follow the dinner conversation."

"Ah." Don Alejandro nodded. "Yes. I wouldn't have thought of that, but I suppose it makes sense."

In the silence that followed, Don Alejandro went back to his book, while Diego was absent-mindedly rubbing Felipe's arm.

He was roused from his troubled reverie by Felipe's hand patting his knee. "What is it, Felipe?"

Felipe pointed to the chessboard on the table next to the settee and asked, " _What is it?_ "

Diego's face brightened. This could be a better way of spending the evening. "It's a game," he explained. "The name is chess. Chess."

Felipe mouthed the word after him, and then he sat up. " _Can you show me?_ "

"With pleasure!" Diego moved to the opposite chair, and started explaining the game just as his father had long ago. Only this time, the story was told with words _and_ gestures. "Long ago, there was a white king. He lived in a white castle, and he had a white queen. The white king was a nice man, but sometimes, when everything was going well for a long time, the white king got bored. And when the white king was bored, he wanted only one thing: he wanted to make war..."

Don Alejandro watched his son and the boy from over the top of his book. At first he was simply amazed at Diego's ability to tell an entire story in this mysterious sign language he had developed with the boy. And was able to explain the rules of chess with it, too! It was obvious that occasionally he had to make up new signs on the go, but the boy seemed to understand him perfectly. In fact... the boy was absolutely riveted, he noticed. His eyes were trained on Diego's face and hands, following those hands when they moved to the chessboard... Not even Diego himself had been that concentrated when had first started to get interested in chess. (Okay, he had been quite a bit younger, but still...)

Their communication was really something of a miracle, Don Alejandro decided, and he kept quietly watching the pair of them from over his book. And when they finally began to play their very first match, he noticed that little Felipe indeed remembered the move of every single chess piece. This whole sign language thing was... amazing – there was no other word for it.

* * *

It was rather late by the time the three men – or rather the two men and the young boy – retired to their quarters to go to bed. Diego took Felipe with him – he didn't have the heart to abandon the boy to a guestroom. The boy's nightmares weren't anywhere near subsiding, and so far, nothing seemed to calm him down as effectively as Diego's comforting presence right next to him. Besides, if he was in the guestroom, no one would even hear him when he silently cried and screamed. It just didn't seem right to force the boy to deal with his nightmares on his own.

The night was indeed interrupted by several nightmares again, and when Diego woke up again in the first morning light, he fastened his eyes on the still sleeping boy at his side with grim but uncertain determination.

He had toyed with the thought before, but now that the hour was drawing near, he knew it wasn't right what he had been planning to do. It wasn't right to put Felipe in an orphanage – even a small one, led by a good and kind padre as the one here in Los Angeles.

Dinner yesterday had shown that Felipe was as yet unable to handle being in a group. With his handicaps being so new, there was a good chance that in time he would _learn_ to function in a group. But he didn't have that skill yet. And to put him in a group of some fifteen children without him being able to communicate with them at all – face it, it was plain cruel. He would have to learn to read people's lips first. Or the children at the orphanage would have to take the trouble to learn and use his signs. And neither was likely to happen soon, if at all.

Additionally, Felipe still needed someone to help him cope with his nightmares. Someone willing to sleep close to him, who would notice the signs even if Felipe was unable to cry out himself. And padre Berardo was a really nice man, but he doubted any priest would let someone sleep so close to him. Yet if Felipe were to sleep in the dormitory with the other kids, it was unlikely that he'd get any support at all.

No. It just wasn't fair on Felipe. With his handicaps, he needed more than the standard orphan did. He needed a home, with people who at the very least took the trouble to communicate with him, and to help him overcome his limitations. And who were not afraid to lose some sleep in helping him deal with his nightmares.

The question was: who could be persuaded to take on a task like that?

In response to the question, his mind instantly jumped to Victoria Escalante, the beautiful girl who now ran the tavern in the pueblo. She'd be perfect for Felipe: she had a heart of gold, stood up for anyone who was in trouble, and on top of that, she had recently lost her own mother, and in practice her father and brothers as well. So she'd be able to empathize with Felipe, and he was sure she'd welcome the boy with open arms and love him to no end.

But no. He sighed a little. It really wasn't fair to saddle Victoria with Felipe – he knew that. Much as he'd love to for himself because it'd give him a perfect excuse to spend a lot of time with her (and with Felipe), the reality was that Victoria was only fifteen years old, and struggling to learn how to run the tavern by herself. A few years from now it would have been the perfect solution indeed, but unfortunately not yet.

Unless of course he'd marry her right now, and then he could help her run the tavern, and together they could adopt Felipe...

A wistful little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. So many dreams... However, he was pretty sure his father would categorically forbid this one to come true just yet. And that was even apart from the fact that he had no idea how Victoria felt about him.

Still, the fact of the matter remained that he couldn't think of anyone else in whose care he'd feel comfortable entrusting Felipe. So what option did he have but to take him to padre Berardo?

* * *

"Diego!"

"I'm here, father."

Don Alejandro came into the dining-room, where he found his son and Felipe at breakfast. They both looked rather glum.

The old Don smiled and nodded to Felipe, and then turned to Diego. "You know, Diego, I was thinking. Maybe it would be better if we'd keep Felipe here. At the hacienda."

Diego's eyes widened in surprise. "Here? How?"

"Oh, as a houseboy or something. If the padre is okay with it of course. But what this boy needs first and foremost is to learn how to communicate. And from what I saw yesterday evening, _you_ are by far the best teacher the boy could wish for."

"Me?" Diego blushed a little with pleasure, and glanced at Felipe who was trying to cut his tamales.

"Yes. What that boy needs, Diego," Don Alejandro continued with emphasis, "Is a good education. To make up for his handicaps. He is intelligent – I noticed that yesterday when you two were playing chess. But if we leave his education to the mission school, I'm afraid he will barely learn to read and write with his handicap – if they manage to teach him that at all. No. If we want to give him a chance to function properly in this world, he must learn to express himself fluently in writing, and learn all there is to learn through reading. What he needs, is a caballero's education."

Diego glanced uncertainly from Felipe to his father. "And you want _me_ to teach him?"

"For now, yes. The boy trusts you, and you two have already established a means of communication. Right now, I'm convinced that no one could do a better job with him than you."

"But what about my own studies? I thought you wanted me to go to Madrid next year."

"I do. But that's many months away, isn't it? By then, I hope I will have learned enough of your secret sign language to take over the boy's education. And to be honest..." He hummed and hemmed a bit. "I think I would enjoy the boy's company around the hacienda. It's going to be a very long four years when you're away in Madrid."

Diego smiled a little. "Actually, I had been wondering, too, if the orphanage really was the best place for Felipe." He explained what he had been thinking about that morning (minus the part about Victoria of course). "So together, that's an awful lot of reasons to keep him here with us."

"Indeed. But since he's a ward of the Church, we would still need the padre's permission. Although I don't think padre Berardo would object to our reasoning."

"And then you want to give him some light chores as a houseboy, and focus on his education?"

"Yes. And I'd also like him to see a doctor. A specialist even. See if there's any chance of the boy regaining his voice and his hearing." Don Alejandro grabbed the back of the chair in front of him. "It'd be a huge responsibility, son. For both of us. But I think we can do it. What do you say?"

Diego's face lit up. "I say it's a wonderful idea, father! But I do think it should be Felipe's choice."

"Well, go ahead! Ask him!" his father nodded.

And with a broad smile, Diego turned to his little protégé. The boy automatically looked up. "Felipe... Felipe, I told you that we were going to take you to the kind padre in the pueblo this morning, so you could live with him in the orphanage. Remember?"

Felipe nodded.

"My father just told me he had another idea. He thinks you could live here and work for us – setting the table, opening the door, things like that."

" _Like señor Salvador?_ " Felipe asked. " _He works for you._ "

"Yes, like señor Salvador. And you would get money for your work, too, of course. Just like señor Salvador."

Felipe's eyes widened in delighted disbelief, and Don Alejandro couldn't quite hold back his chuckle. "That settles it – you'll see."

But Diego continued, "We will also help you to learn to..." He wanted to use the word 'communicate', but he couldn't really think of a gesture for that. "To talk," he settled for. "With our gestures. And to read people's lips, so you can _see_ what they say, even if they don't know your gestures. And you would learn to read and write..."

Felipe's brow furrowed, and he signed that he didn't understand.

"Books." Diego picked one up and showed him the print inside. But Felipe just looked puzzled.

Diego smiled. "Okay, we'll get to that later. But the important thing is that your deafness will cause problems in your life. We want to help you... _conquer_ the problems. And learning and books will help you with that. The problems will not go away, but with learning and books, you can conquer them."

Hesitantly, Felipe signed a question.

"Can you learn about the horses, too?" Diego translated.

And Don Alejandro smiled. "Yes, Felipe. Of course you can learn about the horses, too."

Felipe seemed to understand; at least he nodded gratefully.

"Felipe." Diego touched the boy's arm to get back his attention. "You need to choose. What do you want? Do you want to live here with me and my father? And work for us, and learn everything? Or do you want to go to the kind padre in the orphanage, in the pueblo, where there are lots of other children to play with?"

Felipe quickly shook his head. He pointed at himself, then at Diego, and then, albeit hesitantly, at Don Alejandro.

"You want to stay here, with us," Diego summarized in a semi-question.

Felipe nodded.

"Even if there are no other children around here? It can be a bit lonely for a boy here at the hacienda," Diego warned him.

But Felipe nodded again, and with exaggerated emphasis he pointed from himself to Diego. And then he gestured around him.

And Diego smiled. "Alright. You choose to stay here. And we would love to have you live with us."

And that's when it happened. Something Diego had not yet seen in all the weeks he had spent in close contact with the boy.

Felipe smiled.

It was a trusting, shy smile, beautiful in its hesitation. A smile Diego was going to see many times in the years to come.

He hardly got the chance to take in the boy's smile this time though, for Felipe threw himself in his arms. Affectionately, he rubbed the boy's back. "I'm glad you'll be staying with us, amigo," he whispered, even if he knew the boy couldn't hear his words. "And I'll do everything in my power to help you conquer your handicaps."

Suddenly, Felipe pulled back. Looking directly at Diego, he pointed at himself, then clasped his hands together, and then pointed at Diego.

Diego had to swallow something before he was able to respond with the same sequence of gestures. Only he said the words as well.

"I love you, too."

 **THE END**

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* * *

 _Note: Diego's chess story comes from the movie '_ Long Live the Queen _', which of course postdates him by nearly 200 years..._


End file.
